


Value

by blitzturtles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Multi, OT3, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stormtroopers are disposable; Finn is not. - TFA-Kink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Value

The injury isn’t too bad. He manages to scrounge together the supplies necessary to take care of it himself. The worst part is the stitches. He does them as neatly as he can, but his hands are shaking. He has little more than a small bottle of alcohol for pain relief. The burn of it on his throat is really the only thing that takes his mind off of what he’s doing.

If he fails, if someone finds out, he might be labelled as a loss. Nothing broken is worth keeping around. During his days of the First Order, individuals that acquired illnesses and injuries that were too costly to deal with in a short period of time were simply disposed of. Why bother with such a waste when each Trooper was so easily replaced?

Days drag on. He changes his dressing as often as he can, but yellow pus begins to stain the gauze. His heart sinks at the sight. Another square gets slapped on in an effort to conceal his weakness.

By the end of the night, he finds it difficult to simply listen to the words of his friend. Poe talks on without realizing that Finn has long since stopped listening. The buzz of Poe’s voice still registers in Finn’s ears, distracting him from the worst of the pain.

His knees give out. He falls, but he doesn’t collide with the ground. Strong fingers wrap around his bicep tightly enough to bruise. No matter how many times he attempts to blink away the blurriness from his vision, he can’t focus enough to see who has him. Finally, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

-

He’s warm. There is no pain. No nausea. His stomach doesn’t feel as though it might turn inside out, and his side doesn’t burn the way it has all week.

A gentle voice whispers in his ear. He can’t make out the words, but he recognizes the voice as being female. He doesn’t realize that his hand is being held until the warmth of another hand is removed from his own. That same female voice jumps up and calls for someone else. Finn can only whine softly. The pounding in his head has come back with a vengeance.

“Oh!” Rey turns back around to look at Finn. Her hand presses gently against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to him. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Finn tries to offer her a reassuring smile. He isn’t sure what’s happening. He has no idea where he is or why he isn’t dead. He has an odd sense of calmness. Like everything will be fine in time.

“Do you remember anything?” Rey asks gently.

Finn groans softly. He tries to say something, but his throat feels dry. Rey’s hand leaves his forehead, much to his displeasure. Her cool fingers felt good against his warm forehead. Footsteps move away from his– bed?– but she returns just as quickly.

Another set of hands are on him, helping him sit up just enough to sip some water through a straw. Poe lets Finn lean his weight back against him. The world spins briefly from the change of position. A few moments of stillness allow for Poe to safely rest Finn back against the pillows.

Poe doesn’t move. A faint chirp comes from beside him where BB-8 voices its own concern. Poe manages a small, exhausted sounding laugh. It doesn’t quite sound genuine, but it isn’t forced. He sounds… worried.

“Finn?” Rey calls, drawing his attention back to her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I-” Finn starts. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling ashamed. Ashamed for being so weak. Ashamed for wasting important resources like medicines and the time of individuals that were needed elsewhere.

Poe leans in then. His hand squeezes Finn’s, “Hey, you’re okay now.”

Finn’s eyes snap open at those words. He- did Poe not-?

Rey makes a sound in her throat that Finn can’t translate any better than he can BB-8’s beeping. Poe, on the other hand, nods in understanding.

“Finn,” Rey starts, “I know… I know things are different,” and she would, of anyone. She would know exactly what it’s like to have to lick her own wounds. Hope that no one else discovers the weakness. “But you’re safe here.”

“Please,” Poe’s tone betrays any attempt at calmness, “Let us help you in the future. We had no idea you were so sick.” He sounds so torn up about his own perceived failure that Finn’s stomach twists for an entirely different reason. All he can do is nod.

Rey isn’t always fond of being touched. She spent too much time alone, but she doesn’t hesitate at all to climb onto the bed with him. She pushes herself against his side. Poe smiles at the two. His thumb brushes Finn’s hand. ‘Next time,’ he mouths to Rey. Next time, he gets the bed. Better yet, one of them should convince General Organa that they need bigger beds in medical. Bigger, softer beds. For now, he’s just happy to see Finn awake and somewhat alert.


End file.
